


teach me how to feel again

by orphan_account



Series: swimming with sharks until we drown [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Depression, Gen, no sburb session
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-24
Updated: 2014-05-24
Packaged: 2018-01-26 07:31:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1679933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And suddenly he's dreaming again, dreaming of Karkat falling limply off the school roof, of Terezi coughing and clutching at her throat, of Rose holding a clear glass bottle to her lips.</p>
            </blockquote>





	teach me how to feel again

He dreams of water-blue eyes, of rusty gears refusing to move, of fire slipping down his thighs.

Bro hasn't seemed to have notice his lack of interest in eating recently, and if he has then he hasn't shown it. Dave doesn't see him around the apartment that often anymore, as he is almost always cooped up in his room, and anytime he ventures out Bro is at work, wherever that is. 

School is rather dull, but he's lucky that a truant officer won't come after him for dropping out. He still goes every now and then, ignoring the confused and miffed glares people shoot his way. Rose isn't keen on his decision to stay home all the time, but she doesn't dare comment on his lifestyle while he's in the fragile state he's in now. If she notices his limbs getting lankier and lankier, she doesn't make any move to show she does.

The computer is where everything is forgiven, where he can talk to people half a world over and act like everything's fine, there's nothing wrong. He has a few close friends on the internet, named Karkat and Terezi. He has yet to know their last names, but he doesn't pry. Apparently they go to school together in California, a much nicer place than the demonic Texan heat. 

But he doesn't like to sleep that much, no matter how many times Karkat softens his words and prods gently, urging Dave open with every tinny _ding_ from the Pesterchum window. Dave doesn't tell about his pale skin, beautiful and ridden with lies. The patterns dance across his abdomen, joining hands with laughing blisters at shoulders and knees. 

Then there's John, and the only thing resonating in his head is ebony cheeks, messy black hair, teeth jutting out to worry at a lower lip. Dave curls up on his side clutching the burnt-out match, pressing it firmly to his forearm all while his eyes cloud over and all that registers is fading consciousness.

Dreams, when they come, are all snowy white hands and olive fingertips stretching Dave's eyelids, easing his tongue out of his mouth and murmuring sweet things to pull him into a trance with his Adam's apple crawling out of his throat with skittering cockroach legs. There is blood, so much blood, and a muddled head of brown hair is split open like a melon on the pavement as of faint hopes slither past his lips, drying out his mouth and leaving a bitter aftertaste salty fresh on his tongue.

He stays up late, indifferent to the moon's mischevious features mocking the pinkish snakes restricting his torso, his biceps, his thighs, and squeezing the breath from his lungs with bandages and ointments. The computer's _ding_ isn't heard over the film thickening over his eyes like cataracts, spilling down to the floor and past blood-encrusted fingernails. 

The soft hum of unfinished music lingers in the back of his mind, and suddenly he's dreaming again, dreaming of Karkat falling limply off the school roof, of Terezi coughing and clutching at her throat, of Rose holding a clear glass bottle to her lips.


End file.
